district two's fairytale
by CS Fitzgerald
Summary: From their birth, they are taught to be hunters, predators, children born to die and raised to slaughter. Although these games were supposed to be their story of triumph, it seems like district two's fairytale doesn't have a happy ending.


**Author's Note:** I do not own Suzanne Collin's _The Hunger Games._

* * *

**district two's fairytale**

In the District of stone and stone-workers, in a faraway land that is home to some of the greatest heroes this nation has ever seen, there lives a young boy and an even younger girl. Long before the day they are destined to meet under tragic circumstances and learn the true nature of death, they both carry an intimate knowledge of how to kill. From their birth, they are taught to be hunters, predators, children born to die and raised to slaughter, and it does not take them very long to learn.

The bite of unforgiving steel, the impossibly quick flash of silver, the stain of blood as red as crimson: how easy precious life can be given and taken away.

/

So when the girl's name is pulled out the glass bowl out of the hundreds and thousands of other children, she smiles.

She's going to give them the best show they've ever seen.

_/_

The boy has also been training his entire life for this moment, waiting for this one chance to finally bring pride to his district and honor and glory to himself, so, when a skinny, scrawny red headed boy is reaped, he simply scoffs.

"I volunteer as tribute," he interrupts in a confident, smooth voice. The twelve year old looks at him with relief and gratefulness in his large brown eyes, but he ignores him. Instead, he strides off to the stadium, getting a proper look at his partner for the first time, and before he can stop himself, he's thinking _God, she's beautiful. _He stares at her, and she stares back, blue eyes wide and unblinking. She's not scared of him. He likes that.

"Shake hands now, you two," the announcer urges on, bringing the pair back to reality.

"I'm Cato," he introduces slyly, a ghost of a smirk plastered on his face. He holds his arm out.

"Clove," she snarls back, as she grabs his hand with fierceness and shakes it.

He unexpectedly jerks her forward and brings her closer to him, trying not to let her intoxicating scent get the best of him. "You know,'' he began, so quiet the crowd couldn't hear, "it's really going to be a shame for me to have to kill someone as lovely as you."

"Not if I kill you first," she challenges, her voice dangerously low and seductive, her sharp nails digging into his rough palm, which engulfed hers.

It was going to be the start of a beautiful friendship.

/

The train ride following the reaping is brief, and the first half is spent with their mentors telling them things that they already knew. Things that they've known since before other children in other districts could walk or talk. Things that they knew before they could even really think. And the second half is spent with Cato and Clove staring wordlessly at each other, trying to see who would break under the immense pressure first. Neither did, though, and when they arrived at the glimmering and glistening gotham that was the Capitol, she stood up, putting on her most charming smile and waves at the Capitol citizens. He follows her lead, dazzling them with his best smile as well.

Life as a Career meant always having to wear a mask.

/

For the opening ceremonies, the boy and girl are dressed in black and gold. Their stylists carefully position them on their chariot, making sure these gladiators are stiff and rigid and set wide apart from one another. When the grand spectacle finally begins, the crowd cheers for them. Cato, in all of his handsome glory, looks absolutely terrifying in his costume, while Clove looks tiny, lethal, deadly, a brave warrior princess readying herself to lead her district into the greatest battle of the century.

They wave to their adoring fans and give them the Capitol salute, three fingers over the heart and into the air. It makes the audience go crazy. But once they advance near the centre of city, she catches a glimpse of the screen and it has all changed. Every camera is focused on the star crossed lovers of District 12. They're also wearing black, but they're holding each other's hands and their faces are illuminated by the wild, orange flames that consume their bodies.

Although this is supposed to be their story, it seems they have already been forgotten.

/

That night, she lets the boy enter her room, but forces himto lie down on the floor because she refuses to let his "filthy carcass" sit anywhere near the bed.

At first, they talk of different strategies to get rid of the two from 12, their biggest and most dangerous competition, although they'd never in a million years admit it, when, out of nowhere,he asks if she feels any emotions anymore. He immediately bites his tongue afterwards to the point of tasting blood in his mouth. He _really_ hadn't meant to say something so stupid out loud, to show any sign of weakness or remorse, especially not to her.

"What the hell kind of question is that?" She demands.

Silence falls.

Then she shakes her head, not bothering to look at him. "No - emotions are for the weak. And victors can't be weak."

And with that, they return to discussing their plan.

/

Later that night, during their last moment together without the world watching, he leads her to his room, and she lets him touch her.

It's her first time, and his too, and it's nothing like how they imagined it to be. Instead, it's raw and painful, and when they're done, Cato leaves more scars on her than he's ever left on anyone—bites her and claws at her and bruises her and just _hurts _her.

And she does the same to him too.

Just in case if one of them didn't make it out alive, there would be proof they actually existed.

/

It's finally time – the 74th annual Hunger Games.

The boy and girl stand on the plates of metal, and they watch as many tremble knowing of the horrible fate they would surely meet at the hands of the careers.

_Five._

The vast cornucopia lies before them, these twenty forty tribute, filled with swords and knives and spears waiting to be taken.

_Four._

He takes a deep breath. He'll make sure that they'll both win and go back home - they have to.

_Three._

He's looks at her anyway, though – just in case it really is the last time.

_Two._

She's looking at girl on fire, and he smirks because she knows she doesn't stand a chance.

_One._

The only thing is he doesn't know is the "she" will be _her_.

/

One by one, the tributes fall.

/

When it's her turn to die, she calls for him and he reaches her just in time.

He's never seen her so weak, so fragile, sprawled onto the ground like that. He falls to his knees and she looks up at him, wanting nothing more than to tell him that it's okay - that she'll be fine, that she just needs a moment to rest and she'll get back up and they'll be fine, but her mouth feels heavy, full of blood and her body no longer listens to the commands she tells it. So, with what little strength she has left, she reaches up an unsteady, shaking hand and touches his cheek. Cato firmly places his hand on tops of hers and squeezes.

"I lied the day of the reaping," he confesses, crying. "I would have let you win. If it was just me and you, if it came down to the both of us, I would've let you win."

But she is strong and will not cry. Water brimming in her eyes, she commands, "Live."

He nods and smiles sadly, choking back a sob, trembling uncontrollably. He pushes back the hair that has fallen over her eyes and looks into them one last time before leaning down to kiss her to sleep. This kiss is different from all the other times they've kissed before. It's soft and gentle. And in that moment, he can imagine a different life they could have lived had they never entered the arena. A normal life where they would have gotten married, had children, and grown old together, until they passed away peacefully one night in their sleep, cradled in each other's warm embrace.

But any hope of them coming home together is gone. He knows it, even as he's rocking her small body back in forth in his arms, even as he softly whispers into her hair, "I love you."

She opens her mouth to say something, to say it back for the first time, perhaps, and he sees a flicker in her stormy eyes, but then, just like that, it's gone, and there's nothing, except for the booming sound of the cannon. Something inside him, some vital cord, snaps when he hears it, and in the ensuing silence that deafens him, he feels whatever bit of humanity he had left in him disappear. Maybe he never had any to begin with, or maybe he had only had found it during the fleeting moments he spent with her before the games. Either way, now, it's gone; left in his place is a vicious savage, a ruthless killing machine, a monster driven by impulse and primal instincts.

He grinds his teeth together and screams for all those who have survived to hear.

He is ready to win. He is ready to kill.

/

Minutes later, he hunts down and finds Thresh.

It's purely an act of revenge, when he throws him to the ground and stabs him in the throat with her knife, over and over again, in the soaking rain, screaming "_we_ were supposed to win!" Thresh has such an understanding in those dark, black eyes of his as he dies, he understands what he has taken away from this boy and understands that he deserves this punishment for what he has done. But for the first time ever, killing doesn't bring Cato any satisfaction.

Nothing will bring her back. And he feels the heart he never knew he had break.

/

Love prevails, in the end, after all, but it's not theirs – it's the two from District 12 and they beat him, the monster from 2.

His body is ripped apart by the mutts, but he barely registers the pain. He had already been ripped apart when her heart stopped beating, stopped pumping blood through her veins. She had already torn him apart. So he looks up and begs his enemy to end his suffering.

And when the arrow hits its mark, he only hopes they'll be reunited.

/

But there is no happy ending for the tributes of District 2.

And in the end, they all die, even those that emerge out of the arena victorious.


End file.
